


Sam and Ryan say goodbye

by alley_oops, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Sam Worthington and Ryan Kwanten [161]
Category: Actor RPF, Australian Actor RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), True Blood RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-13 16:26:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14116308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alley_oops/pseuds/alley_oops, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica
Summary: This is a re-posting (archiving) of all logs for the Sam Worthington/Ryan Kwanten storyline in the BDSM RPS RPGCitadel.





	Sam and Ryan say goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-posting (archiving) of all logs for the Sam Worthington/Ryan Kwanten storyline in the BDSM RPS RPG [Citadel](http://citadel.dreamwidth.org/read).

Ryan finishes writing the reheating instructions for a pan of steak and potatoes, then carefully tapes the paper to the foil covering. He slides the heavy pan neatly into the freezer with the others and shuts the door, and then stands there for a long moment debating the relative merits of putting together a few fresh salads as well. They won't keep, of course, that's the biggest problem; not to mention that he's never really sure if Sam's going to go for fresh vegetables at a given meal or not. It seems to vary with his mood.

With a sigh, Ryan drags a hand through his hair and leans his shoulder against the wall. He wouldn't be doing this if he - they - hadn't analyzed it from every angle and concluded that it's a good decision, for both of them. He needs to work, there's no question, and reteaming with Aidan Scott and his producer for Aidan's new album is a golden opportunity. But he's never been away from Sam for so long, not since the day they met. And Ryan is having a tough time struggling to keep his panic from boiling to the surface.

Sam's been feeling sort of sick to his stomach all day just thinking about Ryan leaving. Luckily the flight's not until mid-evening so he gets to see him before he goes. Still. He bugs the shit out of Simon until he finally gives in and lets them all go a few minutes early. A few minutes which make all the difference in traffic around here.

"Hey, I'm home," he calls, letting himself into their flat and dropping his bag, his chest going tight at the sight of Ryan's bags, right there, packed and ready to go.

"Hey," Ryan answers, emerging from the kitchen to greet his lover. He puts his arms around Sam's neck and presses up close for a kiss, longer than the usual 'welcome home from work' variety.

Sam loses himself in Ryan's mouth, their tongues tangling, reluctant to pull back. Ever. Fuck. "When's your cab coming?" he asks, checking the clock.

"Maybe twenty minutes," Ryan answers, checking his watch. "The fajitas are ready. If you're hungry." Personally he's not the least bit interested in taking the time to eat right now, every last moment with Sam far too precious. But he's not the one who's been out working all day.

Sam just shakes his head and backs Ryan up against the wall, kissing him harder, tongue diving into his mouth again and again as he grinds against him. He doesn't want anything except to bury himself in his boy until he _has_ to let him go.

Ryan gasps and moans into the kiss, getting his hands beneath Sam's shirt so he can touch bare skin. "Need you," he begs, "need you to mark me. Please." The scene with the sandpaper and cinnamon oil the other day certainly fulfilled his craving for a harsh beating, unconventional though it was, and Ryan's balls in particular still feel raw. But there's one thing more he needs to take with him. 

Sam groans roughly and bites at his lower lip for a moment, so fucking aroused he can barely control himself. "Are you prepped?" Normally he'd take it for granted but with a long flight ahead, Ryan might have made an exception.

"Yes, Sir," Ryan whispers, surprised by the question. And then wondering why he's surprised. He quickly shoves his cargo shorts down to his knees, twisting in Sam's embrace to turn and splay his hands against the wall.

Jesus Christ. Sam works his jeans open, frees his cock and lines up, pushing hard into his lover. Grips Ryan's hips in his hands and shoves in to the hilt, burying himself deep, his mouth already back on Ryan's throat and the curve of his neck, biting lightly then harder.

Ryan shouts, awash in the sudden burn. But then Sam's mouth distracts him from everything else and he moans, clenching his hands into fists against the wall and shoving back to take more.

_Mine_. Sam growls, biting harder, worrying the skin beneath Ryan's shirt, where he knows his lover'll be able to hide the marks. Grasps Ryan's hips even tighter, fingers digging bruises into his skin and fucks his cock into Ryan's hole, harder and faster and without the slightest shred of mercy.

Moans swiftly melt into desperate whimpers, and Ryan angles his hips -- trying to help, trying to get the thrusts just right, trying to simply fucking hang on. "Sir," he whispers, tilting his neck to the side and baring more skin. "Yes. Yours."

Fuck. There's no way Sam can resist and Ryan said he wanted to be marked. Sam bites down hard on that exposed skin, increasing the pressure until--fuck, yes--he breaks it, the taste of copper flooding his mouth, and _sucks_ , driving in even harder, so brutally he's shoving Ryan up onto his toes and into the wall with every thrust.

Ryan shouts, scrabbling at the wall. And he nearly fucking comes in an instant, reeling with pain, the scent of his own blood strong on the air. "Please, please," he begs, turning his head and trying to kiss Sam, trying to lick the blood from his sir's mouth. "Please, Sir, let me come!"

"Do it," Sam orders, closing his mouth over Ryan's. Letting his boy taste himself on his tongue.

In a mere second Ryan shatters. The wild flavour of his blood from his lover's mouth riots through him and he shudders until Sam is the only force keeping him pressed against the wall.

Sam holds out through every last aftershock then pulls out to the tip and thrusts back in, hard, once, twice and again before shouting as he climaxes, hot seed spurting into his boy. Marking his territory, His possession.

Ryan yells wordlessly, his cheek pressed to the wall. He's not even certain just when it was that he began crying, but it doesn't bother him; it seems right, in this moment. With his emotions in turmoil as they are. Slowly he reaches back to tangle his fingers in Sam's t-shirt, holding onto his lover.

"I love you so much," Sam breathes, kissing the curve of Ryan's shoulder as his cock throbs inside him. Unwilling to move.

Soaking up the words, the emotion behind them, Ryan relaxes infinitesimally. But the blare of a car horn from the street makes him jump, and more tears spill over his cheeks at the realization that this is really it: it's time to go. "Fuck," he mutters, swiping the back of his hand over his eyes. He eases his hips forward, hissing as Sam's cock leaves his body, and murmurs, "I'm not going to wash up. I'm going to keep you inside me." His face, on the other hand, he definitely needs to do something about.

Sam nods, helping Ryan adjust his clothes. "Take a minute," he says. "I'll let the driver know you'll be right out."

Turning to look at his lover, Ryan huffs out a soft laugh. "Sam, you can't go out there like that, either," he says, reaching out to touch a smear of blood by his sir's mouth. "You look like you've been eating raw roadkill."

Shit. Sam wipes his mouth on the back on his hand. "I'll just wave to him then," he says, still laughing at himself. "Go on. Go splash some water on your face."

"Okay." But of course Ryan can't just follow a simple order, hell no. He lays his hands on his lover's cheeks and kisses him long and slow before he finally steps back to head down the hall.

Christ. Is there still time for him to change his mind about letting Ryan go? Taking a quick look in the mirror, Sam leans out the door and waves to the driver, showing him five fingers. He gets a smile and a nod and closes the door again, leaning against the back as he waits for Ryan.

It turns out that washing his face isn't sufficient; Ryan has to change his shirt, too, not wanting to wander through paranoid traveling crowds with conspicuous bloodstains on his clothing. He keeps his word to Sam, though, and doesn't clean up his ass -- his shorts will feel damp and uncomfortable for the next few hours, at least. It'll totally be worth it. Stepping back out into the foyer, he puts his arms around his lover with a sigh. "I'll call you when I get there, once I think you're up. Okay?"

"Nah. It doesn't matter whether I'm up. Just phone me when you get in?" He won't be able to get a decent sleep until he knows Ryan's okay anyway.

"All right." Ryan does his best to relax into the embrace, laying his head on Sam's shoulder and trying to imprint the feeling on his sensory memory. "I love you. You're my everything," he whispers, easing back just enough to see Sam's eyes.

"You're mine too," Sam says, nodding, starting to tear up which he hates. Christ. He smiles. "Week and a half," he says, trying to remind them both it's not the end of the world--even if it feels like it.

Ryan nods. "It's a deal," he promises, and kisses Sam again before picking up his duffle and his carry-on. "Love you," he says once more as he heads out the door. Although he's pretty sure by this point that Sam knows.

"Love you too," Sam murmurs, leaning against the doorframe and waving casually as Ryan gets into the cab, trying hard not to look _too much_ like some fucking love-sick puppy.


End file.
